MamaStories

A Fugue.

I’m reading the newly arrived Life in the Soil. Actually, I’m devouring it. And it’s not even that particularly well or passionately written.

I started wondering about this as I marveled over acellular slime molds and trichomycetes and realized that I often take refuge in books about soil and geology when I am down about the state of the world. In the first days of my “awakening” to climate change, peak oil and what have you, I fed on McPhee’s Annals of the Former World, like Henry, swallowing all 712 pages whole in the matter of a week.

Why?

Glaciers, archaebacteria: they are the kind of Earth without us. The kind of Earth that, given enough geological time, will be there after we are gone. Maybe what I am looking for in these books is perspective. I mourn so deeply what we might lose, and it seems such a shame. But these books tell me that, in another scheme of things, it doesn’t matter so much. From the perspective of the glacier, of the lichen, we don’t matter that much…

Does it work? I lose myself in the text, in the imagining of these things so utterly un-human. That’s something at least. When I read about art, about philosophy, it’s all so thoroughly human. Even a medieval religious icon or a 17th century piece of music are tainted with my sense of loss, of futility. So, losing myself in this Earth-without-us helps take my mind off things.

But then there is always the moment when I come out of the text to be reminded that it was written by a human. The science was done by humans. That knowledge and imagination, once we’re gone, will be gone as well – all that work, all that passion – for nothing! True, the real thing will still be there, the lichen, the glacier, geological time. But here I am, just holding a book, and sighing too much.

Aren’t you glad this wasn’t another “tutorial” (remember “Calcium in the Soil,” in 8 parts)?

I was never a confident public speaker. I used to be a TA at the university where I did a lot of teaching, mostly to groups of 20 student, occasionally to an auditorium of 250. I would rehearse those hours meticulously, often to the point of learning the whole thing by heart. It was exhausting, but I did get better at it, more natural, and my students never complained. That was seven years ago.

Now here I am, an activist who needs to speak out publicly. And it turns out that public speaking is not like riding a bicycle. You don’t do it for seven years, you lose the knack.

For the first couple of Transition events I made sure I had strong invited speakers. All I had to do was the introductions. Even though I gladly followed the good advice to keep those short, I was still very nervous. I arrived at the events half an hour early, if not earlier, and over-rehearsed my three lines.

Soon the introductions became more elaborate, then  people started to notice me and wanted to hear from me – a Waylander – and not from an invited speaker who doesn’t live here. After all, that’s what Transition is about.

My speeches became longer. I love writing them, hunting for the words that perfectly describe the ever morphing idea of what Transition is. One day I hope I can distill it all into three sentences again. But for now, they’re half a page, 1 page, 2 pages…

My audience went from 2 (seriously) to 25 to 100. They are great audiences, they listen so intently. And they seem to like my accent and my voice.

But when I’m “up there,” I’m still fighting the flight-or-fight reflex, telling myself:

It’s the words that count, not the one speaking , and all she has to do is speak clearly so she can at least be understood. I am a channel.  I am merely a channel. These words speak for themselves. You’re doing the Work. It needs to be done. You’ll get better at it. People understand.

Public speaking, it turns out, is like flying. The more I do it, the more I fear it.

Why is that?

Yesterday my Transition colleague Wen (a fabulous public speaker) and I did our “Transition Talk” at the big Interfaith Thanksgiving celebration. You can hear an earlier version of that here, when we did it for the Episcopal Church on Saint Francis day.

Last week Thursday a group of us from Transition Wayland carpooled and took the train into Boston to add our numbers to the 99% at Dewey Square.  The special occasion was Bill McKibben’s visit. He was there to let the 99% know that the 1% is ruining it for the 100% for the sake of quick profit. He had some choice words about and for President Obama, especially about the XL Pipeline and the exploitation of the Alberta Tar Sands, which, according the NASA climate specialist Jim Hansen, would mean “GAME OVER FOR THE CLIMATE”.

Here’s the video I shot:

In other news, we burned our first fire in the wood stove. The perfect thing to redeem a  wet and chilly, gloomy day!

This comes pretty close to what I was trying to say.

“It was the first follower that transformed a lone nut into a leader.
There is no movement without the first follower.
We’re told we all need to be leaders, but that would be really ineffective.
The best way to make a movement, if you really care, is to courageously follow and show others how to follow.
When you find a lone nut doing something great, have the guts to be the first person to stand up and join in.”

Today I read this article about leaderless movements like Occupy Wall Street. The article itself doesn’t quite deliver on its promise (“The history of leaderless movements”), but it got me thinking.

When’s the last time you were part of a leaderless movement? Can you remember? No guru, no one spokesperson, no one hero or “example”?

Some of you were probably part of such a movement, but you didn’t notice. That’s because we are blind to it. We think that movements need leaders, or they can’t go anywhere, right? I mean, if there is no leader then who is the movement going to follow?

But a following is not a movement. It’s a mob.

Oftentimes people regale me with stories of brilliant and wise or exceptionally good people. I always thought, hey, kudos to them. But now that I’m in this “let’s move” mode, when most of my conscious thought is driven by The Work that is Urgent,  I’ve become mentally allergic to such stories. People on the pedestal are anathema to the empowerment of the many, of all. They are the ideal we can’t attain. They also absolve us of our own empowerment and decision making, and all that comes with it, like responsibility and sacrifice.

Now I know why I am drawn to that saying: we are the people we’ve been waiting for! “We”: you and I, all of us, we’re all heroes. We should be.

All we need to do is move. Move ourselves.

I realize that when I introduce Transition, I usually invoke Rob Hopkins. Though I try to stress that he’s a normal person like you and I, I still always end up implying that he’s a saint. I’m going to quit that. I’m going to stress: Transition is what *you* do, when you volunteer to restore that apple orchard, when you grow your own food, when you walk or bike instead of drive, etc.

The movement is not in or because of Rob Hopkins. Or Richard Heinberg or Joel Salatin or Bill McKibben. Yes, they are exceptional people, or rather, they have an exceptional grasp of what is going on and what we need to do. Yes, we should listen to what they have to say.

But they must not be our leaders. If they are, then it’s not us, moving, making a movement, leading ourselves. We can adopt their ideas, their principles, but real, lasting action will only come out of that if we make them our own.

On Monday evening there was an interesting meeting in my town, about a small wooded piece near a local pond that is under threat of the bulldozer and development. I wanted to go and hear what it was all about, meet the people organizing against it happening. Hear the arguments on the other side…

But I had spent most of the weekend “on the beat”: Moving Planet all day Saturday, on Sunday a presentation about Transition to my town’s First Parish Green Sanctuary Committee (which, I believe, I am now a member of), putting together a press release about the previous day, picking up the sandwich boards from the intersections, setting up some of our coming events, and in the late afternoon getting my neighborhood’s block party going.

So I stayed home, cooked a meal and had dinner with my family. We read books together and I took Amie to sleep. Then I read my novel (scfi-fi, these days, total escapism!).

I am now doing this kind of work, “volunteer activism,” pretty much full-time.  I email, maintain two websites, design fliers, write article, schedule talks and meetings, prepare presentations, and plot world domination plan events during the day, when Amie is at school and while she reads or does homework. The events, talks, presentations and meetings themselves happen in the evenings and over the weekends. That’s because that’s when people are “off work” and can come. This means I have very little down time anymore.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining! I’m saying, like I often do when I describe Transition, that it takes the whole person: heart, hands, and head. Weekdays and weekends. On and off. I think that’s right, I think that’s how it should be. I live what I preach. I am moved by the cause day and night. I think I am lucky, that I don’t have to tear myself in two, that I carry my passion around with me at all times, at home and “on the beat”.

I’m still going strong and I’ve got my buddies looking out for me, making sure I don’t burn out. So one of them went to the meeting instead. And I could stay home, and take care of myself and my family.

I got a report in the morning.

That question is easier to answer: 8 became 20 became 45 became 1500.

On the Walk to Walden, 7 humans and 1 horse. As we walked in the humid, mosquito-filled 80F weather, through Wayland, Lincoln and Concord, more joined. By the time we reached there were about 20 of us, and at Walden Pond we met up with about 20 more for our “Thoreau moment” with 2 speakers. Read all about this part of the day in the  Wayland Patch.

Then we high-tailed it to the Concord train station, where we just about caught the train into Boston for Moving Planet – New England. How many were there? Hard to tell. One radio station said 1000, but I’d say more, 1500 perhaps. We could count the heads on the mass picture they took at some point.

We had a great time, sauntering, chatting, listening to our speakers, dashing for the train, relaxing and networking during the train ride, marching through Boston chanting and laughing, meeting old and new friends, listening to the funny and moving speakers at the event.  I came home exhausted, limping, voice as good as gone. It was wonderful, we had been part of an event that took place in my own town and all over the world.

The day after, someone who had not gone to any of the events told to me “how disappointing it was” that not more people had showed up. Several things struck me about this statement.

First, the speaker didn’t say she was disappointed. She wasn’t, she was just making conversation. She meant that I must be disappointed. She wasn’t interested enough to have a feeling of her own about it.

Second, I thought I was disappointed but the more I think about it, I realize I’m not. I even have a hard time actually figuring out why I should be. I saw many people from my town there, some I had invited, some came as a surprise. True, I missed some friends who had done their best and couldn’t make it, but I wasn’t disappointed that they weren’t there: they had helped and were there in spirit. They cared. And then there were those who were there: all of us understanding and supporting each other. Tens, thousands of us!

Third, what does it mean when someone who doesn’t care, says that “it was disappointing”?  Is she really saying, “Only a 1000, it couldn’t have been that important, so it was okay for me not to be there”? Or even “this movement isn’t big enough for me to care about yet”?

Now there’s an interesting conundrum!

It’s akin to the situation of so many waiting to invest in solar technology because they’re waiting for better technology to come on the market – thus actually holding back that the emergence of the better technology they’re waiting for!

People!

We are the people we are waiting for!

The moment is now.

I’m struggling with all this.

I look forward to reading Frances Moore-Lappe’s new book Ecomind with  Transition Wayland. Its subtitle is Changing the Way We Think, to Create the World We Want.

Solutions to global crises are within reach… Our challenge is to free ourselves from self-defeating thought traps so we can bring these solutions to life.

I hope it delivers! I need some answers, soon!

Tomorrow is the big Moving Planet Rally, at 3:50 pm (!)  in Boston. Transition Wayland is leading the Walk to Walden in the morning.  For  the local event, the Walk, we did big (local) publicity and emailed hundreds of people, communities and organizations in town. We built and painted sandwich boards that went up at the three major intersections. My friend Wen Stephenson wrote beautifully about why he is Walking to Walden tomorrow in an op-ed in the Boston Globe, which was voted one of the five best Thursday columns this week by the AtlanticWire, and was re-published in an expanded version in Grist.

How  many will come? It’s always hard to know. Before our meetings, which we hold in different places each time, our hosts invariably ask: how many chairs will you need? I always laugh and say: it’s a surprise!

The thing is, it doesn’t matter how many come. If tomorrow it’s the same old people, it’ll be worth it. We’ll get to know each other better. We’ll carry the banner. We’ll go.

I’m at my desk, not working, in the warming sun – wearing a sweater again – enjoying a coffee and listening to Bach’s Matthew Passion (Emma Kirkby soprano) after what must be years, that particular piece of music, not the rest. Though, honestly, it feels like years since I’ve sat here not frantically writing emails, composing spreadsheets and posters, tinkering with sundry websites… Just relaxing, writing.

You’ve noticed, I’m sure!

Here’s what I’ve been up to.

A lot of my Summer went to  Moving Planet New England, with grass-roots and person-to-person outreach to many organizations, large and small, in some 20 communities in the Metrowest, trying to get them all to board the same train into Boston on 24 September. I have met many great people and learned a lot from them: how to motivate and support people, how to “work the press” and organize a big event.

Moving Planet is a regional effort for me as well as a local one, since Transition Wayland will make a (hopefully) big showing at the Rally after Walking to Walden and then hopping on that (hopefully) packed train. Now that the flurry of regional outreach is done, we’re working on banners and billboards.

Transition Wayland is taking off again after the Summer doldrums, during which many of our people were traveling. After Moving Planet and Walking to Walden we’re kicking off a big communal project called Wayland Walks – mm, anyone see a pattern here? Our town is big on conservation, and we have many woods, wetlands and trails  protected against development. But many of these trails have fallen off the map. No one walks these trails any longer, owners don’t even know a trail (and easement) runs through their property, and many have become impassable, forgotten. The plan is to put all of it back on the map. We will develop an online, interactive map where groups and individuals can record their walks. We’ll also help organize group tours with themes and experts: someone who can identify the birds or plants, connect us spiritually with our little piece of the Earth, help us do holistic science near the watershed, or regale us with local history.  That way we’ll locate these trails, assess their condition, and invite friendly conversations with the property owners. The idea is to light up the map by the 375th Anniversary of Wayland and build great community and sense of place.

There, that’s  the pitch.  You like it?

The idea is not for Transition Wayland to organize this, of course (the thought!) but to initiate the project and to  facilitate its organization. We’ll get all the conservation, trail, nature and community groups in Wayland together in a room and see what we can come up with.

We’re also showing the movie In Transition 1.0 – and people are *loving* it – and doing our Climate Change event, called Treading Water at different locations, speaking with the local Clergy, and in October we’ll actually be doing the sermon for a large congregation. People are recognizing us and the responses are always encouraging. I’ve many thoughts that I want to share about Transition….

The Green Team is school-related but that doesn’t mean we’re off in Summer. It runs all year long now that it has taken on some big projects. The biggest one at the moment is composting and deep recycling in the entire school district, a coup for Massachusetts. We spent one whole hot week in Summer building compost bins and now we’re training the kids and staff at one school to get the system down. Once that pilot is successful, we’ll quickly help the other schools do the same.

Here I am working on a bin

The Green Team was my “entry” in volunteering and the Wayland community at large, last year, and it was thanks to this passionate and encouraging group that I came to believe that Transition Wayland would be possible, and that I could do it.

~